


Snow Blind

by Nebulasaur



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Mentions of Death, Swearing, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 08:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20043019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulasaur/pseuds/Nebulasaur
Summary: Sadie offers up an easy bounty job for John to take.





	Snow Blind

  
If John had his way, he wouldn't be up on this stupid mountain. After that fateful wolf attack all those years ago. He'd lie if he said he'd hadn't been avoiding the mountain in particular like the damn plague. Even looking at it at times, looming high and powerful in the distance would fill his body with a pang of fear. Just one look and he can feel the phantom ghost of blood dripping down his face and the howls of distant wolves and here he was, trudging through the deep snow like the very fool he was. The white powder knee-deep and bitter wind howling from seemingly all directions.

  
A bounty, Sadie had mentioned to him.

  
John had run into her by chance at Manzanita Post, going back to the Dutch blacksmith to replace a hammer that broke while he was mending fences on the edge of his property. Charles stayed behind to finish what he could while John promised to be quick. And there was Sadie. Walking out of the part of the small building that acted as a general store. Face hard and set deep in concentration. She didn't even know John was there until he called out," Miss Adler" tipping his hat in a brief greeting.

  
Sadie snapped her head up with a furious glare but softened her expression almost immediately when she recognized who it was.

  
"Seems we've been running into each other a lot these days."

  
Sadie Scoffed and shook her head, placing a sack of purchases onto the back of her horse's saddle.

  
"It would seem so," she smirked, giving her horse a small pat on the rump and walking up to Marston's horse in turn as he started to dismount," Anything new with you since we last have seen each other?"

  
"What? You mean last week?" John let out a small chuckle, his head shaking side to side for a moment. He quickly hitched his thoroughbred to the hitching post and reached deep into on the saddlebags to retrieve the broken hammer," same as always, I suppose. Just fixing up the farm," Sadie looked pointedly at the broken hammer in his hand and he gave it a quick wiggle," . . . or at least trying to . . . and you?"

"Bounty hunting. Same as always," She smiled, pulling her pistol from the holster at her hip and wiggling the gun in front of John in the same manner. He shook his head again and began to walk towards the man who'd help him with the damaged equipment. Not a beat later he heard Sadie's footsteps trailing close behind him," but speaking of bounties. I'm full up as it is but I got a hot tip of a bounty up near Lake Isabella. Suppose to be real simple. No Gangs. Just one man if you are interested."  
John paused for a brief moment but caught himself and continued. Sadie caught up and walked beside him now as he slowed to his pace to a more measured, leisurely walk.

  
"Real easy money, John. Lord knows you could do with the extra cash," she pointed down to the hammer in his hand.

  
". . . Who is it?"

  
"Man named Reggie Reynolds-"

  
"That's a stupid name -"

  
"Reggie. Reynolds," Sadie clipped out," A banker out of Saint-Denis. Turned his investments into fraud and has been on the run since last week. Folks say last he was seen heading to Mount Hagen but," Sadie bobbed her shoulders slightly and turns to rest her arms on a wooden fence post. Taking John brief second to realize that they had even stopped walking, but he looks at her to continue," I don't know, seems easy if you're looking for something easy that is."

Sadie reached up, giving her chin a scratch and lazily looking away to something seemingly more interesting in the distance," few days ride at best . . . "

  
"Few days ride? Try a few weeks!" The outlaw scoffed and turned to lean against the same fence post she was," Ride up freezing snow-covered mountains, to find a man who may or may not even be there. Then ride his ass all the way down to Saint-Denis? Then back here?"

  
The shorter woman starred back as if what he said made utterly perfect sense.

  
"No, I'm busy. Too busy to go chase rumors it seems," With that, John turned to walk back towards his original goal when Sadie spoke back up.

  
"And too broke it seems. Besides, you'll only have to take him to the nearest Sheriff's office. He's wanted throughout New Hanover as well. Valentine or Strawberry will do," she pushed off the fence and turned back to her horse that was hoofing the ground in boredom," Just think about it, Marston," she threw over her shoulder and mounted up.

  
"Why don't you take it?" John inquired back only to have the sandy-haired woman lift her hands in reply and wiggle her fingers.

  
"Hands full, remember" Dropping her hands, and grasping the reins, she started out onto the street and yelled," See ya later, Marston."

  
\--------

So here he was, walking along on the edge of Lake Isabella. Not a cloud in the sky but the wind bit into his cheeks like a snake. He cursed at this stupid idea once again, regretting it as soon as he saw the first snow on the trail behind. Yet, knowing that turning back would be an even bigger waste of time. Both he and his horse's breath puffed out in great quantities only to blow away as quickly as they were exhaled.

  
Trying to push his furred collar over his pained ears but failing miserably. John cursed under his breath for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. Shit, that week as he pushed his stallion forward through the deep untouched snow. Yesterday he passed a campsite where a family claimed they saw someone who looked . . . kinda . . . like the man John described. The man looked jittery, on edge and headed up towards the mountains. Just looking up at those same mountains sent his stomach dropping and palms clamming up with sweat. Yet he had to take the gamble. Reminding himself that going back this close into the chase was just plain dumb.

  
He shifted in his saddle, looking back and forth amongst the bare trees and blinding white snow. Only catching a glimpse of what looked to be a bull moose on the other side of the relatively small lake.

  
And

  
Some footprints in the snow.

  
John stopped his horse. Seeing the windswept prints faded, but clearly not animal either. Squinting, he followed the tracks with his gaze that seemed to be leading . . . Damn this snow was blinding. Using his hands to further shield his eyes from the sun, John was just able to make out what appeared to be some sort of small cabin? With a click of his tongue, Marston moves his horse cautiously forward. The beast already irritated with the elements as him, its eyes darting about and it's massive neck bobbing in frustration. With a soft cooing, John leaned down to give the thoroughbred a few good pats. All the while keeping his own eyes scanning around the area. Careful not to miss any small details.

  
The cabin, if one would call it that, was more of a tiny shack. The roof half caved in, the wood knarled and long weathered to the elements. Clearly, a building abandoned and forgotten to the snowy waste for the mountains.

  
John is no skilled tracker to the level of Charles. Not even to the level of Arthur, but he understands enough that the footprints are what? A day or so old? As he looks closer, he is keenly aware that there seem to be no tracks leading away from the decrepit building. Reggie Reynolds has to be in there. John has no doubt the man had taken shelter there. What a fool this man was, to travel up this far. Running from the law and thinking his best bet was in an unforgiving landscape such as this.  
Maybe Sadie was right. This will be beyond easy . . . well, as far as the capture goes. Mr. Reynolds will most likely be starving, exhausted and John was willing to bet having a few digits fewer. Shit, he might even thank John for finding and rescuing him from this frozen patch of hell. Thank God for that. The sooner John can get out of this miserable bounty over with the better.

Silently, he pulls out his pistol and climbs down from his horse. Giving one more cautious look around for any signs of an ambush. Deeming that the coast was clear, John calls out," Reggie! Come out here!"

He flinches a bit at the loudness of his voice but only the wind replies. Rustling the pines and sending a mist of fresh snow skittering around the shack. John waits for a beat or two and yells out again. He clenches the gun tightly in his grip as a particularly bitter gust spikes through his winter coast as if it were made of paper. With a huff and a shake of his head, John steps forward. The crunch of snow under his boots is loud even against the wind. As John approaches the door, or what used to be the door, he can see the figure of a man in the corner. Hidden in the darkness, shadowed by the ceiling that's still intact. The man's form hunched into himself as if he could make himself smaller, the cold wouldn't be as bad.

  
The loose and scattered floorboards amongst the patches of ground creaked under John's weight as he slowly moved to kneel in front of the city banker. Making sure to keep as much of a safe distance as the tiny space allowed. In case the older man would strike out and attack.

\--------

Well, at least he found the bounty.

Found him dead.

  
John sighed out audibly, rubbing a cold gloved hand over his face.

  
Reggie's eyes were closed but his body was frozen stiff in his huddled sleep. As if time had only frozen this man in place but left the world running on. John had seen many dead bodies in his life. He'd seen people with their heads blown clean off their shoulders and others contorted in back alleys, skin a sickly green-yellow from some disease or another. Yet the way this man looked so . . . so natural . . . so peaceful even. As if he'd stir awake if John just lightly touched his arm. It left a sinking feeling deep in his gut. The banker's skin was a pale blue and his exposed fingers already turned a nasty charcoal black.

  
"Well, shit," John muttered, letting out another deflated sigh as he rose to his feet. Wincing as his knees gave a pop and ached from not only being saddle sore but from the decreasing temperature. The bounty would be significantly less now that said bounty was dead. Debating with himself if it was even worth dragging this human icicle back down to civilization seemed an unnecessary strain to put on his horse. He kicked at a small rock as he reached into his coat pocket for his pack of cigarettes and matches.

  
"What a waste of my damn time," he chided himself. A whole three days are gone for a fool's errand and now for a reward that seemed hardly worth getting out of bed for if these were the 'good ole' days'. But those days have long since passed and he's been more desperate for money than ever before. Taking a long drag from the cigarette, he turned to look back at the Banker's body, then back up to the sky. The hues of sunset told him that at least they weren't going to be traveling back tonight. Might as well set up camp and sleep on whether or not he'll haul the body back down the mountain come morning.

  
With a final pull, he tossed the cigarette butt into the snow and grab his horse's reins. Leading the steed to a nearby wall of rocks with a particularly large slab jutting out far enough to provide a small semblance of shelter. He wondered absently why Reggie hadn't chosen this spot to take shelter himself but it would make more sense for a city man to choose the familiarity of a building, he guessed.

  
John flicked away his last cigarette into the small fire and laid down in his makeshift tent. Huddling close into himself to trap as much heat as possible before falling asleep to a racing, numb mind.

  
Some birds chirped. A tiny chorus in the still crisp air of the morning. John hadn't slept much, which was no surprise, given the cold and hard ground, but kept his eyes closed. Trying to will some power of rest on himself before finally getting up and facing the day. It was the piercing howl of a wolf moments later that jerked him fully awake. Hand shooting to his pistol, his eyes darting in sleepy awareness. Heartbeat thundering in his chest and ears as he crawled out of the tent and stood amongst the mountain air. Looking everywhere for the blasted beast, his hands already shaking and sweating even though the temperature was dropped well below.

  
It took him a minute to calm himself and reluctantly stowing the pistol back into the holster when no reply howl was answered back. The growl of his stomach nearly made him jump. So he relaxed a bit and began the ritual of breaking down his small camp. Taking mouthfuls of hard, cold rations that he brought up with him as he rolled the tent up and shoved loose dirt and snow onto the fire pit. He had a near splitting headache and his neck ached something fierce. Looking over his shoulder carefully, he saw his horse a few feet away munching on whatever small patch of grass grew against the rock wall. There was an almost heavy stillness in the air. The wind had completely died down and other than himself and his horse, there seemed to be no other living creature in sight. Even the birds stopped their morning song and a thin fog rested on the ground. As still and mysterious as this place eluded to.

  
John carefully and quickly packed his belongings onto the back of his horse. Wanting to leave this place for good. Yet, he paused, there was still the question of Reggie Reynolds. John quickly shot a glance at the small shack briefly thinking of the man that laid inside, then back to his horse who seemed to share his urgency in leaving this place. With another weary sigh, he took a few steps towards the decrepit building, then suddenly stopped. Hearing the distant sound of hooves crunching into the silence. He turned back to his steed who hadn't moved from its spot and yet the sound continued. John looked about, hand ready on the pistol and eyes squinting into the haze beyond. He expected it to be a deer or even a moose or hell, could it be another person trying to cash in on this supposedly 'easy' bounty? Shit, some say there is a legendary white bison that roams by this lake. If he could bag something like that, he wouldn't even need to haul Reggie's corpse back. The Bison's hide would double the banker's bounty easily.  
Marston pulled out his pistol fully, eyes still focused on the thickening fog. His ears still tracking the sound of the hoof falls. The creature sounded close but with all this fog and the morning sun beginning to blind him out, he couldn't be sure. His ears picked up a distinct snort of a horse, not from the direction of his own and then . . .

  
There it is.

  
The form almost ethereal in this already otherworldly environment. It's snow-white coat almost glowing in the hazy sunlight and as pristine as the very ground it walked on. The creature's gait was confident as though it had no idea that Marston stood only several yards away. This couldn't be Reggie's horse. . . .could it? There was no saddle or bridle or any sign that the beast had ever been here before. John distinctly remembered only one set of human tracks leading to the worn cabin. In fact, it didn't look like it belonged to anyone . . . . anyone except . . . .

  
John's breath hitched, letting out a small, shaky intake of sound that was enough to grab the Arabian's attention. It halted mid-step and stared directly at John with an expression of serene curiosity. He watched has its snout huffed out clouds of exhaling breath as if sniffing the air just for his sent. John felt like he had just been slapped in the face as memories crushed over him like an avalanche. His chest tightened with a myriad of emotions, his mind teleporting away from the crisp mountain, morning chill.

To a cool spring evening . . . .

  
\--------

  
_Of Arthur standing at the hitching post on the outskirts of the camp. The dimming sunset bathing Horseshoe Overlook in a warm red and orange glow. Arthur's large hands carefully and gently brushing the dried mud from his horse's toned neck. Low voice cooing quietly and rambling out all sorts of praise to his newly found mare. _

  
_"Her name is Baby's Breath," Morgan had said, not taking his eyes away from his task as John approached and smiling wide as the creature nodded it's head slightly. More than enjoying all this pampering. _

_"What the hell kind of name is that?" Marston nearly stuttered out a peal of laughter only to receive an icy glare in return. _

  
_"It's a type of flower, small and white. Not that you would know, you ignorant fool," John made a small raspberry noise in reply, resting his rifle on one shoulder. _

  
_"I'm just not the type to go off frolicking in some flower field, unlike someone I know," Arthur gave one last pat to the white Arabian's shoulder before storming past John to join the other's surrounding the fire," What?" asked John and only getting a flick of the horse's ear in reply. _

  
_\--------_

  
_John never forgot the sight of Arthur's limp form racing past him. Baby's Breath slowing to a halt just before reaching camp as her charge lurched dangerously from her saddle. John ran as fast as he could, glancing over his should just to be sure that Arthur hadn't been followed. He and Charles quickly but carefully pulled down Arthur's dead weight from the small horse's back. Her white coat that Arthur took such care to keep pristine was now stained thick with blood down her neck and shoulder. Her whines followed as they carried her master into the depths of camp. _

\--------

  
_"Something just seems . . . seems off," Arthur's lowered voice broke the beat of silence between them. The two men stood close in the darkness, on one side of Baby's Breath as she nibbled lazily on some loose hay. Arthur took a drag of tobacco as John spoke. _

  
_"I'm just glad we got Jack back but . . . I feel like it ain't over with this Angelo fella'. I don't like it, Morgan."_

  
_Arthur gave him a deep look that read of exhaustion and understanding, but after a second he nodded. Looking down at his dirt-caked boots. _

  
_"I know, I know. I don't like this any more than you but I trust," Arthur's words seemed to hang heavier in the air than humidity surrounding them," . . . I trust Dutch to have a plan, I just . . . " the taller man reached out and put a firm grip on John's shoulder," we'll see how this goes, okay?"_

  
_\--------_

  
_"Where are you going?" asked John as Arthur rode past the stone fencing of Shady Belle. Bring the Arabian to a halt, Morgan turned in his saddle to face Marston who was now walking up to the mare's side. John could see, no feel, the stress and anxiety practically leaking from Arthur's whole body. His shoulders were tight with tension and mouth fixed in a firm scowl. The outlaw seems ready to snap, a sentiment shared though the whole camp these days._

_"Out, hunting most likely . . . I just," Arthur paused to scratch his beard and look anywhere but at John," I need a few days."_

_John nodded, his right hand reaching up to rest on Arthur's upper thigh, using his calloused thumb to rub into the worn pants. In a gesture he hoped was soothing. Asking to go with Arthur would result in a rejection. He knew all too well that some racing thoughts are best left to solitude. John stiffened a little as Arthur's larger hand came to cover his own. Morgan's bulk leaning down and Marston on instinct standing taller to meet him halfway._

  
_Their kiss was chaste and sweet. Lingering only a fleeting moment into each other before Arthur finally pulled away and giving John's hand a reassuring squeeze. _

  
_"See you soon," Arthur tilted his hat and gave the younger man a bittersweet smile. With a few clicks of his tongue, both outlaw and snow-white mare were off. Disappearing into the thick vegetation._

\--------

_John breathed him in deep. _

  
_His face resting in the crook of Arthur's neck. Nipping at the flesh._

  
_His hand quickening its strokes on the older man's hardened cock._

  
_Tilting his head back up to drink in the moans escaping from those kiss bruised lips._

  
_Their kiss deepening as they rocked into each other, Arthur's body writhing against the wall of the small shack. His own hands holding a firm grip on John's hips as the smaller man broke the kiss and leaned into Arthur. Their foreheads glistened with sweat as they rested on each other, panting out their need for completion. John's free hand sliding up to rest on the back of Arthur's neck, giving it a good squeeze that brought them even closer. His thumb rubbing along the taller man's three-day-old stubble. Their eyes met, clouded over in lust and . . . and something more._

  
_"John . . . "_

  
_\--------_

  
_"Thank you . . . Thank you."_

  
_"Morgan! We have to go!" John's yell pierced along with the sound of bullets passing over them, "NOW!"_

  
_"Give me a minute, g-goddamnit!" Arthur snapped and coughed out, looking back down to the white mare that laid whining on the ground. Her white coat now dirtied with mud and a splattered mixture of both hers and his blood as he coughed another lungful out. His hands, petting her ever so gently and his whispers of apology and sorrow and regret filtered in the chaotic night air. The thundering of hooves and yells of men grew closer, but still, Arthur continued his praise to the beast. No, not a beast but a close friend, whose whines of pain now dulled into shallow, short breathing. Her eyes half-lidded as her body began to limp under his hands. _

  
_"Arthur!!" _

_"I-I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry. Thank you and please . . . " a few tears dropped from his chin on to her cheek. _

_Baby's Breath was gone._

  
_" . . . forgive me." _

  
\--------

  
It took everything John had to blink back the tears that stung in his eyes. But the pain in his chest only subsiding a bit once the Arabian turned back it's gaze from Marston and continued the path into the thin forest and thick fog beyond.

  
In the end, John decided that leaving Reynolds to rest where he lay was the better of the options. He'd run into Strawberry and let the officers know of the banker's location. He was too cold, too drained and too mentally unfocused to care about the time he wasted getting up here in the first place. As the hooves of his horse met solid dirt road once more, John rode on but in a more slow and melancholic pace.

  
Deeply lost in the thought of someone long since passed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This is my second fic ever so it's all still a hot mess 
> 
> I had this idea back in the epilogue of the game and going back up to Lake Isabella to catch the legendary fish. I know now there is possibility to recapture the white Arabian in the wild. Which I didn't before when I got this idea for this fic. 
> 
> How did you interrupt it? Was it a completely different horse that happened on John? Or maybe a memory, a ghost of the former mare he once knew?


End file.
